


Safe For Lightning

by Catchclaw



Series: Mental Mimosa [37]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Grief/Mourning, M/M, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-30
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2019-05-16 01:27:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14801750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catchclaw/pseuds/Catchclaw
Summary: He tells himself he's in mourning.





	Safe For Lightning

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: No one's gonna love you more than I do. Prompt from this [generator](http://colormayfade.tumblr.com/generator).

He tells himself he’s in mourning.

He tells himself that it’s grief, and it works, that half-truth, for a little while, as long as it takes for his tears to be swallowed by kisses, his skin by vast, unfamiliar hands.

He keeps his eyes closed even though he knows that his bedroom is dark and it’s a different kind of shield that he’s used to, a different way of fending off things that can hurt him, sights that might cut like a knife. The mouth against his isn’t Bucky’s, no amount of shadows can hide that, but if he doesn’t look, doesn’t let himself see, he can pretend that there’s no great a difference between one kiss and another, between the grip of a god’s hands and those of a man.

Those last months, that last year, had been so sweet; that’s what makes it especially bitter. They’d learned how to be friends again, he and Buck, to do more when they met than tear at each other’s clothes and block out the world by burying themselves in each other’s bodies. They’d broken free of desperation, of the fear that each time they met would be the last. It was easy to feel safe in Wakanda, a land out of time and yet so far beyond it. Bucky had blossomed there, out on the grasslands with goats at his feet: a boy from Brooklyn born to live on the land. It was so good to look him in the eye again, Buck; to pull back or turn over or reach out and see the man he’d fallen in love when the world seemed young looking back. Those days, he knows now, were an idyll, a dreamland between wars, between battles that will always come; the universe, he knows now, is determined to keep them apart.

There’s no harm, then, in this, in having Thor’s palms on his ribs, the turn of a golden beard against his stomach, down his thigh. The god is mourning, too, though he’s tightlipped about it. His people lost, Asgard, that’s one thing, but his brother? An acknowledgement only, a short nod of the head, and ten lifetimes of grief in his face that he's refused to give voice to. But Steve can feel it just the same. He wonders if anyone else left in the compound can. He wonders if that’s why Thor came to him.

He’s incredibly gentle, this thunder god, he who can summon fire from the sky, fury. Since that first, heartrending kiss, his hands haven’t left Steve’s body, haven’t stopped stroking, soothing. Even now, as he eases his mouth around the hot line of Steve’s shaft, his fingers are busy, his thumbs sweeping soft turns inside of Steve’s thighs, warm, steady circles that feel like grounding, as if he’s making Steve’s body safe for lightning to bury itself inside.

That’s what’s going to happen. Steve’s sure of it. There’s been no discussion, no exchange of words beyond a sigh, a groan muffled by the other’s mouth. There doesn’t need to be.

He reaches down, blind except for touch, and smooths his palms over Thor’s head, the short, unruly spikes. They're damp, from the shower or sweat, he isn’t sure, and though there’s not much to hold onto, Thor doesn’t seem to mind. He pitches up into Steve’s fingers, his own never slowing, his tongue never ceasing, and moans, a low, aching sound that makes the bed, the very shadows, shake.


End file.
